


the last one ever

by honeysnaps



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Action, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, The Death Cure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 03:24:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16884714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeysnaps/pseuds/honeysnaps
Summary: As he approached and the alleyway replayed flashes of what already felt like another life to his brain, Thomas gasped. He knew his body was failing, but there was no time to focus on the searing pain of the bullet, to account for the blood he knew he was losing. None of that mattered. Not when hope was so close. Thomas could map out how many footsteps would bring him there, had counted on his way to Ava Paige, blood boiling and heart freezing out any kind of optimism. But with Minho and Gally by his side, in the recesses of the shadowed off corners where life had flickered away from Thomas, a guiding light warmed his heart. Hope had never tasted so forlorn and bittersweet. Hope had never whispered a message so soft yet heartbreaking. Hope had never been a four letter word that fought Thomas, pleaded with Thomas and broke Thomas.There is one last promise that Thomas is intent to keep. One last life worth saving.





	the last one ever

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written for The Maze Runner in forever (or at all on this account), but after having a marathon of the movies and reaffirming my love for Thomas and Newt (and never ending anger at James Dashner and Wes Ball) I had to write something. Please Enjoy! 
> 
> *Descriptions of injuries and the aftermath of violence*

Thomas’ vision was blurry, the haze of fire and destruction surrounding him aglow in menacing waves of orange and red that danced forebodingly in his sparse vision. His breathing was labored and heart was aching with a pain he thought he already knew. He had lived through this pain before, it was familiar but the insistent and never ending cold that swept through him was a stranger intent on strangling the life right out of his devastated body. The wounds that pierced his skin and dug deep were nothing compared to the reason for his sobs, the tears that tracked down his cheeks and neck, mixing into blood stained clothes. Though his fight with Janson was only moments before running to the rooftop and being thrown in the berg to safety Thomas could already feel the memories of the battle choking him. Teresa had fallen with the building, fire consuming them both. Somewhere in the back of his mind a twisted thought of karmic debt had been fulfilled. He was not sure why they had embraced one last time, why he had cared for her so much. She had ruined everything. Betrayed them, broken them, taken what little they had left and turned it to smithereens. Thomas could feel the berg ascending, the sudden shift knocking him about. Thomas screamed, pleaded, there was one last thing he needed to do before they reached the safe haven. He did not think he could live with himself if he did not even try.

Minho was by his side and Thomas knew in his heart that his friend understood the cries falling from his lips. Thomas could not make out most of the conversation surrounding him, only bits and pieces filtering through his pain fogged brain. The berg was much too loud and his cries much too consuming to entirely focus in on the discussion. Minho held Thomas, a lifeline like no other trying to anchor the boy back into reality. But there was only ever one person that Thomas could truly recall successfully grounding him, securing him back to rationality, making him stop—if only momentarily—to think. For a moment Thomas felt guilt, with all that Minho had been through Thomas should have been the one to offer comfort to his friend. But Minho did not hesitate to wrap his arms around Thomas’ fragile and bleeding frame, somehow Minho was the one to put the pieces of Thomas’ nonsensical sobs together. Minho relayed the message Thomas had been trying to force out, the plan he had formulated at the shot of a gun. Minho was always good at reading between the lines and understanding the cries of his friends—though he would likely never admit that.

“We can’t” Minho said after explaining, the two words were broken syllables, muttered thickly around a strangled sob. Thomas could hear the want in the opposing words. He knew, even through his pain and sorrow that those words tore Minho apart. “There’s no time left. It would be useless.”

Thomas had succumbed to silent sobs, his body much too ruined and drained to continue on its path of self-destruction. Instincts kicked in, preservation of energy winning a long fought battle. His eyes fluttered shut, blurry vision going dark behind closed eyelids. The cold pain in his chest that tugged mercilessly left him shivering, and even though Minho applied steady and constant pressure to the bullet wound in his abdomen, Thomas could feel more and more blood spilling from the puncture. Every fiber of his exhausted physical being was crying out for Thomas to pass out. Maybe he would awake at the safe haven. Maybe he would not wake at all. Thomas was not sure which option was better. The debate over his pleas did not last long—decisions needed to be made quickly. The city was on fire and the world as they knew it was ending. Thomas shuddered, his air supply tightening and chest heaving with the necessary force to stay alive, to stay awake and as alert as possible. He felt the pressure on his wound deepen, but that pain was bearable. It was a whole other force that drove the cold through his chest.

“We don’t know unless we try,” an unlikely voice spoke up. Thomas was sure at this point he was past delirious. Gally could not seriously be siding with him. Though they had put their differences aside in a time of peril, this want that Thomas had sprung on the group was selfish and dangerous and in the grand scheme of things, likely bound to fail. It was unlike Gally to grant Thomas anything he may want so long as it did not benefit Gally as well. “Land the berg!”

Thomas could feel Minho’s sudden shift above him, the way he faltered in applying pressure to the wound as the berg shifted direction. The movement was jerky and unanticipated from the pilot but the command was followed nonetheless. Thomas sent out a mental thank you to Gally, knowing that in this skewed world they had come to survive he now owed Gally his life. Or at the very least, a reason to live. Minho swore something fierce about how every shucking shank on the berg had a death wish as he reapplied the pressure to the bullet wound. Thomas forced his eyes open, the dim light in the berg stabbing pain through his skull. His jaw ached, his eyes were swollen and cuts lined his face from his struggle with Janson. But he was determined. This was his idea, his redemption and savior. He would be the one to enact the plan, he would be the one to rear the consequences or reap the successes. The berg landed none too smoothly but everyone remained safe through a few jostles. Screams of war and terror, triumph and defeat, ripped through the unnaturally hot night air. The sounds of battle only intensified as the berg doors came to an open. Thomas tried to sit up on his own but Minho jumped in to offer a guiding hand.

Gally surprisingly took up flank on Thomas’ other side as they managed to exit the berg. In the back of Thomas’ already crowded and screaming mind was gratitude—an emotion he seldom felt towards the builder. The berg had landed not but a few dozen yards away and Thomas swore up and down that it was a miracle the destruction of the city had not yet reached their destination. A haunting chill crept up Thomas’ back and his body convulsed, Minho and Gally there to assist Thomas in his efforts to stay upright through the pain. Hand slick with sweat and blood, the vial Teresa had forced upon him before her fall dangled precariously in his grasp. He knew it was her last apology, a small token to possibly earn forgiveness in Thomas’ heart. But Teresa did not matter in the moment. Only the vial and what it could possibly bring back to Thomas. He would not drop it, the glass tube the only thing keeping him alive. The serum a constant push to keep his steps going—though jagged and mostly coerced by Minho and Gally—Thomas kept on.

As he approached and the alleyway replayed flashes of what already felt like another life to his brain, Thomas gasped. He knew his body was failing, but there was no time to focus on the searing pain of the bullet, to account for the blood he knew he was losing. None of that mattered. Not when hope was so close. Thomas could map out how many footsteps would bring him there, had counted on his way to Ava Paige, blood boiling and heart freezing out any kind of optimism. But with Minho and Gally by his side, in the recesses of the shadowed off corners where life had flickered away from Thomas, a guiding light warmed his heart. Hope had never tasted so forlorn and bittersweet. Hope had never whispered a message so soft yet heartbreaking. Hope had never been a four letter word that fought Thomas, pleaded with Thomas and broke Thomas.

_Newt._

His body was still, the dagger in his chest gleaming under the light of hundreds of fires scattered and consuming the city. Thomas forced out his name, the one syllable catching in his throat as they neared. Through spotty vision Thomas let that hope collide back into his heart. The blackened veins and infection that had threatened to rule Newt’s heart, soul and body had begun to heal. For a moment through Thomas’ determination he wondered if death had been a cure the entire time. Maybe WCKD had been chasing after something that was attainable. Newt had begged for it, fought for it, and taken it into his own hands. The vial in Thomas’ hand felt much heavier than before. Head lolling to the side and loosened grips from Minho and Gally as they approached Newt resulted in Thomas being dropped at his side. The blade in Newt’s chest had once been yielded by both of them in a fight that never should have happened. Thomas could faintly make out his comrades screaming from the berg, urging him to hurry, Minho and Gally never wavering from his side though the danger around them grew with every waking moment.

“ _Please_ ,” was all Thomas was able to choke out as he removed the dagger from Newt’s chest and replaced it with the injection from the vial, straight to the heart, praying to a God he was not sure he ever believed in. Moments ticked by, the screams from the berg and the collapsing city faded out around Thomas. The last of his strength was used to push himself up to Newt, one hand covering his best friend’s heart, the other pinned beneath his own weight—blood soaked and broken. Wind picked up around them, hot and dry, a suffocating mixture of sand and smoke assaulting them. Before all went dark and quiet, before Thomas realized the world was fading around him he swore he felt a thud under his hand, swore that he could feel something more than cold flesh and stained clothes. Two last words slipped from his mouth before everything around him went away. “ _Newt, please_.”

<< >>

Daylight crested over the water’s edge, rocks lined the shore and sand was hot under bare feet. A fire plumed in the distance and Thomas breathed in the only real fresh air his memory served him. The safe haven was quiet, mellow murmurs from the inhabitants bid the beautiful beach a somber tone. A rock wall with the names of loved ones fallen too soon bore a constant reminder to the love Thomas had sheltered away for so long. His fingers traced over his friends names, some older than others, but all capturing a piece of Thomas’ heart and drive to better the world. Thomas heard the crash of waves behind him and felt the sting of his bullet wound as a slight breeze picked up. He was not sure how he survived the blood loss, how the world had come back to him in dazzling colors and startled breaths. Salt was in the air and a hand was wrapped around his. Minho had not left the medical hut since their arrival at the safe haven. Even Gally had popped in to check on the progress from time to time. And for that—for his friends no matter how unorthodox the relationships were—Thomas was eternally grateful. Without their willingness to put their necks on the line, Thomas was sure he would not have survived his last plight.

 Thomas passed Minho who wore new, clean clothes and an almost smile. The day was in memorial to those that all the survivors had lost and Thomas figured that an almost smile was better than nothing at all. Reaching up Thomas fiddled with the pendant Newt had bestowed to him before their fight had picked up, before the dagger had become sheathed inside his chest. Thomas fiddled with it, heard a peculiar sound within the confines of it and ran a thumb over the edge. It was creased and able to open. Inside was folded paper that tore the breath out of Thomas’ lungs. Carefully, Thomas seated himself on a rock, feet dangling off the edge, toes grazing the sand and eyes to the sky before regaining his breath and opening the pages.

 It did not take long for Thomas to finish reading the letter, but he sat there for much longer than necessary, memorizing every stroke of the pen. He could almost hear Newt’s voice reading the thank you’s, reminiscing on times past and concluding his life. Thomas let his eyes slip shut past falling tears, folding the pages back up and stowing them into the pendant where they belonged. Thomas felt a shift in the sand beneath his feet and opened his eyes to look back out at the water. The presence on the rocks beside him was familiar, warm, the reason the cold burn in his chest had dissipated upon waking at the safe haven.

“You know, Tommy, I was ready to let go,” Newt said quietly beside him. “I made peace with my decision. I followed you to the ends of the earth and I’m sure I would have done it in any life I lived. I just didn’t think I would get the chance to follow you further in this one.”

Thomas choked back the cry stuck in his throat, a tidal wave of emotion crashing over him as Newt shifted closer to him, thin arms wrapping around Thomas’ shoulders. In kind Thomas held onto Newt with all that he had, pulling him into his embrace as much as he could. Newt’s face was tucked into the crook of Thomas’ neck and he could feel the tears from the other boy on his skin.

“I promised you I would get you the cure,” Thomas said, the words rippled out of him in a shuddered gasp. “I wasn’t going to fail you again.”

Thomas felt the press of Newt’s lips on his neck as he spoke and something inside of Thomas melted at the contact. “You could never fail me Tommy.”

Silence settled around them momentarily, every last moment of all the trials and tribulations they had faced hanging in the humid air around them. Thomas let a hand wander up and down Newt’s arm, the pale skin specked with goosebumps, just one more reminder that he was alive. The black veins had waned as the cure set into Newt’s heart. Minho had dragged Thomas back to the berg and Gally had all but tossed a withered but healing Newt over his shoulders and into the berg just before the city imploded. They had ascended fiercely into the sky and towards their saving grace. Thomas and Newt had laid together in the berg, in the medical hut, not once did anything separate the pair. Thomas was sure that as much as Newt needed his blood to be cured, Thomas needed the beat of Newt’s heart to recover. He could still feel the solitary thump under his fingers, the last pulse of hope that sent shock-waves through Thomas’ body.

“That was really the last of it, yeah?” Newt questioned. It was not the first time he had asked Thomas about the cure. “You really used the last of the cure for the flare on me?”

“The cure wouldn’t have done anyone else any good. The world was already torn apart. But you weren’t. You fought so hard, for so long. Even through the flare you were _my_ Newt, I knew you wouldn’t give up, no matter how much you said you wanted to.”

Thomas could feel Newt’s smirk. “You always have had a bloody listening problem haven’t ya?”

Thomas cackled dryly at that and reached up to wipe fallen tears off his face. Newt did not move, still firmly pressed into Thomas’ side, and that’s how Thomas preferred it.

“I ‘spose that listening problem saved my life more than once, yeah?” Newt continued. “We told you not to go into the maze. But you did. And somehow you got us out. We told you not to cause scenes and pick fights. But you did. And somehow along the way you saved the world. Our friends. My life. If I had told you not to give me the last of the cure, to save it for a worthier cause, you wouldn’t have listened would you?”

“Newt, maybe it’s selfish and deluded to think but to me there’s no other worthier cause than you. The world was failing and the only person who knew how to replicate the cure had gone down in flames. We were going to start a new world and there’s no one I would rather have by my side than you. I promise.”

Thomas felt Newt relax more into his side, watched the way his feet kicked into the sand and the twitch of his hand inching towards Thomas’ as if for permission. Thomas did not hesitate in entwining their fingers together. Three words sat on the tip of Thomas’ tongue, burning and begging to be released.

“Thank you, Tommy.” Newt whispered and looked up at Thomas, chin still resting on his shoulder, eyes fluttering in contentment.

Thomas smiled, chest light and airy as he moved closer to Newt. He felt consumed by him, calm and sure. He felt that even though the world had gone up in flames and the repercussions were vast, humanity on the brink of extinction, he would never doubt his decision. Newt was never meant to leave Tommy. They were an unbreakable chain, forged and linked together by fire and fury. Steadfast with respect and admiration. Thomas closed the minuscule distance between them, leaning down to press his lips to Newt’s softly, a whisper of a kiss between them.

“I love you.”

“I love you, Tommy.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the only ending my brain will allow. I completely disregard both the movie and the books ending. Page 250? I don't know her. Thomas passing out in the berg? Never heard of that.  
> <3


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